


De Profundis

by Decepticonsensual



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticonsensual/pseuds/Decepticonsensual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift is taken by the DJD.  Tarn has something special in store for him.  Unmitigated darkfic, with graphic depictions of torture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	De Profundis

He fought.

That in itself is not remarkable; they generally do.  After all, the List includes some of the most dangerous mecha who have ever lived.  It would be more surprising if any of them ever gave in without at least trying to escape – or, failing that, to take a DJD member or two with them. 

What’s more interesting is that this one fought _smart._ Despite his palpable terror, he didn’t lash out on instinct when they came for him; he took them on, yes, twin swords flickering faster than thought through the air and actually managing to land a few serious blows, but the second it became clear that open battle was pointless, he dropped his weapons.  Not surrendering – Tarn rightly warned them of that.  Conserving his energy.

In the days that followed, Drift turned devious.  There was the strip of metal he pried off his cell wall and slammed into Kaon’s circuitry just as the electric chair reached maximum voltage, causing a feedback loop that knocked Kaon into stasis for a full day.  There were the howls of pain he let out when the wicked spines of Vos’s face were driven into his own, temporarily blinding him as they tore his plating to shreds – howls that he knew would lull his captors into relaxing their guard, just a little, but enough that he could wrench free and fell Tesarus with a blind kick to the head before they recaptured him.  And there was the way he willingly plunged his hands into Helex’s acid, ignoring the agony as it started to melt him, just so that he could hurl it at Tarn’s face.  The mask caught most of it, luckily, but Tarn is still sporting angry-looking acid burns own the length of his throat, and an ugly hole in one of his treads.

That’s why Drift is now permanently chained to the berth in the DJD’s special cell.  The question of simply killing him was raised after the acid incident:  after all, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t suffered, despite his resistance.  Perhaps not yet to the degree the DJD is legendary for, but not every kill has to be a Black Shadow.  Tarn put his foot down.  A high-profile Decepticon – one of Megatron’s _chosen_ – turned high-profile Autobot?  If there’s any case that requires their utmost skill and focus, this is it.  Drift cannot be granted the release of death until he has suffered things that would sicken even the most jaded Decepticon interrogator.  His fate needs to be _art._

Besides, Tarn had a certain fondness for that little Autobot medic, and he wasn’t pleased to lose his plaything and his supply of t-cogs in one fell swoop.  Tarn is awfully good at finding things out.  He knows who took his medic’s pretty hands, and, ultimately, his mind.

The rest of the DJD were wary at first, but they’re glad now that their leader insisted, because having a permanent guest is a rare opportunity to get truly inventive.  They already know what a full acid bath does to the subject, but what about a single drop of acid drizzled onto the plating?  What if it’s dropped into the optic?  Onto the interface equipment?  Onto the spark?  What if it’s suspended above his head in a container that it will slowly corrode over the course of hours, reducing him to a panting, cringing wreck as he waits for the inevitable?  Vos and Tesarus get to relax and play with their blades, taking a piece here, carving a strip there.  Kaon delights in applying single wires to sensitive pressure points and raising the voltage slowly, recording every whimper, every minute change in expression that results.

Drift takes it.  His tolerance is impressive.  At times, they get the sneaking suspicion that he even _enjoys_ it:  there are moments when he grins manically, or gasps and arches _into_ the hands flaying him open.  Whether it’s genuine pleasure or a tactic calculated to unnerve them, the members of the DJD don’t particularly care.  Most of them were already practicing their arts when Drift was just another syphonist passed out in the Dead End, and they have seen every reaction imaginable.  Little fazes them anymore.

The only time Drift ever shows fear is when Tarn enters the room.  It’s surprising, given that Tarn just talks to him.  He leans in close, cooing in Drift’s audial, calling him _Deadlock_ ; sometimes, he’ll even stroke the prisoner’s cheek.  The other DJD members don’t hear exactly what their leader says.  They only know that afterwards, Drift is trembling, often with tears in his optics.  Once, he broke a three-week silence to ask Tarn when he would finally be allowed to die.

And Tarn murmured, “Oh, Deadlock.  I won’t be finished with you for a long time yet,” and kissed his brow.


End file.
